When Booth woke, he was in pain.

Every morning, as soon as the sun knifed through the cracks of his blinds, the aches set in. Old aches racked his bones, old injuries that liked to point out that his injuries weren't the only things getting old. His right knee throbbed, his feet pounded from what felt like a ten mile run, and his back – always his back. As Bones had not so delicately observed once, his body was starting the process of falling apart, a process that hit its stride during the night and made every morning a torment.

But, speaking of Bones, this morning…

Booth felt a warm pressure against his side. He steeled himself before opening an eye to verify its source. He didn't know quite what to expect. He knew - he knew - last night had been real the same way you knew your last meal had been real. You could name each food, even recall the taste of each bite. But Booth had woken up and known a dream was real before. He had bickered with a cartoon, detonated bombs with a ghost, and shared his bed with a figment of his unspoken want.

But the reality of last night – he didn't know if he could open his eyes. This wasn't a reimagining of himself in a different life, but the Bones he knew, whispering his name, her arms wrapped around him. Telling him that she loved him. Making love to him.

Booth swallowed, pulled that warm pressure closer. He didn't know if he could take it if last night was real in the way that his dreams had been real before.

A small noise vibrated against the nook where his chest met his shoulders. It was almost a mew, a feline purr, against his skin. Its signal and what it could mean caused his entire body to respond with its own satisfied hum. Booth sighed and let himself slide into that sensation of heavy sinking that accompanies perfect relaxation. Even if just for a moment, he could bask in this.

Then the alarm screeched to the left of his head. Booth jerked at the sound and swung out his hand, the edge of his palm pounding the snooze button over and over until he hit it just right. Booth eyes swiveled to glare at the machine. He sucked in a breath and glanced to the right, where the warm form stirred in his arms.

Ripples of mahogany hair. That's what he saw. They spilled over his shoulder and draped over their owner's face. A small hand was brought up, curled, beside a marble cheek. Booth brought the back of his fingers to trace it, feel the smooth fall of its curve. The form sighed, shifted, and tucked itself in deeper into the grooves of his body.

Bones. Bones here. In his bed. Tucked against him.

So many feelings and thoughts and images bombarded him, images from their past and images from last night and images of things he thought would never be. His entire chest cavity swelled in an effort to contain the pure emotion expanding inside him. Booth couldn't breathe. An overwhelming urge to roll her over and kiss her, make love to her again until they were both panting and sweating and moaning, struck him.

Bones whimpered and snuggled closer.

Booth leaned forward and kissed the top of her head, his nose nuzzling her hair.

No. No, this moment was perfect all on its own.

Now, Booth faced something of a dilemma. Normally, getting up, warming his joints, getting some food acted as the best remedy to temper the pain of waking. But getting up meant moving away from Bones, and he was fairly sure he'd be content to lay here, right here, for the rest of his natural life.

Though there was the small task of taking down Broadsky today. That pesky detail.

Booth sighed, but he smiled as he slid out from under Bones, and her face scrunched as she nestled into the indentation of where he had laid. He raised the sheet and placed it over her shoulders.

They had things to do, but those things would get done. Until then, Booth would make them some breakfast.

After he cracked the eggshells, Booth dropped the yolks into the skillet and listened to the tale-tell sizzle. With his other hand, he flipped the pancake with the spatula, the hot smell of a perfect browning earning a nod. He stepped back for a moment, snatched a slice of orange, a drop of juice falling to his wrist. He loved the sharp-sweet bite of oranges.

Footsteps padded across his floor. Too quickly. He turned around to see Bones swing open the door, his robe wrapped around her. He wanted to smile at the picture until he saw her face.

Her eyes blinked, examined the kitchen as she would note evidence at a crime scene, and then analyzed Booth's position in the room. He watched as her shoulders unwound, a weary relief settling in her features.

Booth cursed himself. Of course. He knew better than this. He left the bed empty. On today of all days. He left Bones alone in that empty bed even knowing how she had been left alone and abandoned before. When she woke up and saw him gone, he knew what she assumed. She assumed that he had gone after Broadsky and didn't even wake her up with a word for goodbye.

He grabbed a mug and balanced the coffee pot over it. He filled it to the brim and added two spoonfuls of sugar, no milk. He slid it across the marble counter. "Sorry about that." His voice was thick. "Should have had that ready for you." He glanced up to her face, not giving a damn about the coffee.

"I thought…" She trailed off, then squared her shoulders. She regrouped and met his gaze. "I thought today you might want a donut this morning." Something in her eyes flickered. "You have a strong preference for donuts."

Booth shook his head and grinned. "I have a strong preference for breakfast." He snatched the handle of the spatula and slid the egg onto a plate with the pancake. "And you have a preference for over easy."

A soft smile flitted across her face. Good. "Your observation is accurate." She moved forward and settled onto a chair at the bar.

"Of course it is. Gotta keep my partner happy." He winked at her. "That's the rule I go by."

Now, if he didn't know better, Booth could have sworn a hint of a blush crept into her cheeks, but he blinked and there was nothing but a half-turned smile. She tilted the fork and cut into the side to take a bite of egg. She swallowed and shrugged. "Yes, yes it is." Almost playful.

It was too much. Booth had to turn around, throw the bacon in the now vacant skillet to hide the shit-eaten expression that had taken over him. The grease popped, and the edges turned as the fat cooked. Booth loved breakfast. It was his thing.

The rest of the meal passed in an easy silence. Hands brushed while grabbing for syrup and butter knives, forks scraped against glass plates, eyes darted to each other and away. Booth reveled in it. He didn't need a discussion or verification or any of that nonsense. What he needed to know, he knew. He'd known since the beginning. Why bother with a damn timeline or titles? If she needed time, she had it. This was his reality right now, and he would spend the rest of his life making it their reality every day. He was all in.

Finally, Booth stood and collected dishes, running them under hot water and letting the suds flow over the tops of the cups. He brushed the backs of his hands off on his boxers and smiled. "I guess we've gotta get out of here and on our way."

Bones' brow furrowed. She turned away to look at the windows, still covered to prevent any chance that a sniper bullet could pinpoint its target. She looked back into his face, her eyes as hard as jade. "I need a shower before we go."

Booth's mouth ran dry as his ribs expanded again. He gulped and nodded. "Sounds like a plan."

The rest of his life. This is what he needed the rest of his life.

She swiveled off of the stool and led the way through his living room, pausing only to pick up a hair tie off the coffee table. With one hand, she twisted her hair into a bun and secured it with the other. Booth trailed her into the bedroom, where she shrugged off his robe, and he stepped over it onto the tile of the bathroom. Bones turned as she reached the precipice of the tub.

As Booth snaked his arms around her ribs, she stared up at him. Her voice was the same as the one she used to issue commands to her squinterns, factual, no-nonsense. "Don't get my hair wet."

A challenge, huh? "I won't." Booth kissed her neck, and his hands roamed the smooth planes of her back. He shimmied out of his boxers, and she stepped back and pulled him over the ledge. He shadowed her and twisted the nozzle, pulling it up to engage the shower. The showerhead jumped from the sudden pressure of the water, and Booth pressed Bones against the wall as the first hot drops fell down onto the porcelain and onto their skin.

Steam billowed in puffs around them as Bones spread her legs, allowing his full erection to pass between them, and he moaned at the soft feel of her. Her hand grasped the nape of his neck, bringing his gaze to her, and her eyes held his, resolute. "Don't make promises you can't keep." A few beads of moisture bounced off the walls and gathered in the small strands of hair that fell in front of her face. They looked like tiny strands of pearls.

Don't die. Please don't die tomorrow.

I won't.

Booth's throat tightened, and he reached up to angle the showerhead down further so that the hot spray hit him full in the back, shielding her from its full force. He leaned down and kissed her and pressed against her. Small rivulets of water gathered in the chasms where their bodies met and fused. Everything solid in him melted in the face of the water and heat until all he could feel was the liquid silk of her skin and the flick of her tongue and the rush of his blood. He pulled away, his arms still wrapped around her.

"I told you – I'm not going to betray you." He searched her face and he prayed right then and there that God wouldn't make a liar out of him. Because he needed this. He needed her. He would come back to her. "I keep my promises."

The look in Bones' eyes shifted to one of diamond intensity, and she pulled him down in a heated kiss. He leaned forward to meet her halfway, and her fingernails scraped against his scalp as she reeled him in. Booth tightened his hold, and he felt her leg lift beside him to balance on the ledge of the tub. Her right hand encircled his cock and directed it to her entrance. With a final glance, he grazed her cheek with his thumb. When she nodded, and he pushed himself inside her.

An overpowering heat washed through him, and he leaned a palm against the wall to keep himself from buckling under the power of the sensation. "Oh, god, Bones."

Her small hands gripped his hips, and she rotated against him. Purple spots danced at the edge of his vision as she slid up and down him, and he thrust forward again, eliciting a moan from her. "Now, Booth, now." Her voice hitched as he pressed into her again. "Don't stop." A mist settled over her eyes, like a fog hanging over grass in a low field, a look he was starting to recognize as want. "Right now." She pivoted against him again to emphasize her point, and he groaned into her shoulder. Booth's other hand traveled to the small of her back, and he tilted her closer to him as he thrust.

The water cascaded down his body as he honored her request, relinquishing all control and slamming into her over and over. Her moans echoed off the tile, and she wrapped her leg around his waist, granting him greater access. His hand found a breast, squeezed it, and she responded by biting and sucking at the skin on his neck. His breath came in gasps. He'd never felt desperation, desire like this. He had loved before and loved deeply before. But this intensity that scourged his veins now was unlike anything he'd ever experienced. He was doused in it.

"Booth, yes, harder."

He nodded against her, ever dutiful. He was aware of nothing but her cries and the feel of the hot water streaming down his back, the sign that her hair was still dry.

I keep my promises.

For a second time, he lost himself in her. He thrust over and over until he felt her tremor around him, and she arched forward, her fingers clutching at his back. He groaned at the force of his own release, and he clung to her as he emptied herself inside her.

Booth kept a hand on the wall as the room spun around him, the steam buffeting his skin as he panted, trying to regain his breath. He listened as Bones' breathing settled as well, and she leaned back, her arms still draped over his shoulders. Booth looked up and met her gaze. Without a word, he closed the space between them and kissed her, tasted her, felt her.

When he pulled away, he stared into those eyes. Just in case, he wanted to be clear. "Bones…"

"No." She gave one hard shake of her head. "You promised." She kissed his cheek and slipped out from his wet grasp. She pulled an army green towel from the rack on the wall and wrapped it under her arms. She looked back to him while allowing her hair to fall back to her shoulders. She ran her fingers through the strands, somewhat buoyant in the humidity but otherwise dry. "You promised."

He grinned at her, impressed and awed by her capacity for trust and faith in him. He didn't deserve it. "I did. I did promise."

"So there's nothing to talk about."

He climbed out of the tub and nodded, his hand brushing her hair past her ear. "Okay." And it would be. Because, if she was going to put that kind of faith in him, he had damn sure better live up to it.

After they had dressed, Booth realized that they had never actually washed.

The drive to the Jeffersonian was interrupted only once when they passed the turn for the Hoover. "My car is still parked at the FBI." Bones tilted her head to him.

"Your Prius doesn't have tinted windows." Booth looked out the windshield now as they cruised under a red stoplight. He had turned on the flashers. He wasn't going to give Broadsky a good still shot.

He pulled the SUV into the parking garage under the Jeffersonian and parked right next to the elevator up. He faced Bones. "Now listen, don't go near any windows. Stay out from under the canopy today. I mean it. Walk on the sides as much as possible. And don't go outside for any reason, any reason at all, until you get a phone call from me."

"Of course." Bones had slipped back into her scientist persona, and she met his gaze with a short nod. But then she glanced to the elevator and the door handle, and she blinked before turning back one last time. "You will call? After you've gotten Broadsky?"

Her eyes flickered under the florescent lights, and Booth saw the pain in their shadows. Booth swallowed. He reached for her hand, gave it a squeeze. "Promise."

At his words, her head bowed, and her hair fell in front of her face. Booth wanted to reach out and hold her, pull her against him, but he didn't think he could leave if he did. Bones straightened, a mask settled back over her features, but she didn't let go of his hand until she had slid out of the car. Booth watched as she depressed the button for the elevator until the aluminum door shut with her inside. His last glimpse was of her, chin held high, as she swiped away a single tear with the back of her hand.

Booth felt the gravity of what he'd done. Once, Bones hadn't known that kind of pain. When he got to the Hoover and walked into his office, he faced the board with all the information they had on Broadsky. He had to finish this today. His mind was clear, and he could feel his pulse drumming in his veins.

He wouldn't put her through the pain of breaking his promise.